Alistair Regrets
by foxghost
Summary: Alistair finally realizes the cryptic events that brought them to the landsmeet on the day of Laina Tabris' funeral. M for some tame fumbling and fade to black. Warning: tear-jerker.


1

Alistair was still in Redcliffe when the news arrived. The blight has ended. The archdemon slain. The Hero of Ferelden, as they were to call her, was dead.

Laina was dead.

He repeated the phrase to himself a few times in his mind as he stared at his messenger. Words half-formed about to leave his lips came out only as a rushing roar. "That's impossible."

"But, your majesty - "

"I said that's impossible!" Alistair turned away as his voice began to falter and darken at the onset of tears. "GET OUT!"

He had spent the past week learning to hate her. The woman he loved had betrayed him - had betrayed them all - by letting Loghain go through the joining. That bossy, scheming knife-ear. Alistair hated her for making him marry Anora. He hated her for forcing him to leave. He hated her...and yet the news of her death brought all these walls down.

"It's...not possible," he told himself through the sobs tearing him apart from the insides. Laina was invincible. She faced down ogres and demons. She had stood her ground, unblinking, in the midst of a dragon's fire. That girl was never there when a blade chanced her way. She moved like the wind. How could she have died?

When the last of the sobs left him, Alistair stared down at his hands. They were rough and crisscrossed with scars; a warrior's hands. Laina had smiled when he first raised his hand to touch her face, remarked on their unusual warmth, traced the raised ridges with her fingertips. He once shielded her and loved her with these hands. He clenched them now and failed to see what she had seen in them. What she had seen in him. A useless man who was not there to protect his beloved when she must have needed him most.

Anger flared and replaced grief for a moment. It's Loghain's fault! It's always Loghain's fault. He was there as her comrade and he should have been the one to protect her, but he did not. A foolish thought, perhaps. Shifting the blame, even. Regardless, he had to know. Alistair reached over and gave the bell rope a tug.

"Send me Wynne when she arrives." He told the steward before he could blurt out a 'your majesty.'

"Wynne, your majesty?" Damn it. There was no dodging these formalities, he thought.

"Yes. Wynne, the mage, one of the great heroes who just defeated the blight. I want to see her the moment she arrives in Redcliffe. Send out someone by the bridge to look out for her. Do what you have to do but I want her to come see me as soon as she can -" He stumbled over his words as his former self reared its head, then quickly corrected himself, "as soon as she gets here."

2

It was the evening before the Landsmeet. Alistair meant to have a talk with Laina about her previous betrothal. She refused to speak of it at the alienage and brushed him off with a withering glance. He intended to corner her on the issue - after all, he had a right to know, as her love, did he not?

Alistair found her staring into the fire in his room. She did not hear him enter. For one quiet moment he was able to observe her. Her cheek glistened in the fire's light and he realized that she had been crying. "Laina?"

Laina raised her hand to brush her hair away from her eyes and stood up. She was smiling. There was no indication of the sadness that was there just moments before. Had he imagined it? The woman before him seemed happy and radiant.

She approached him and laid a kiss on his lips, then lithely withdrew to one of the sofas. She sat down, gracefully, casting an almost regal figure. If she was a human, and a noble, she would have made a wonderful queen. As things were, however...no, he did not want to think about this. There was no reason to think beyond this eve. For all they knew, both of them could die tomorrow. An ambush from assassins, perhaps. An archdemon, quite possibly.

Alistair sat down next to her, suddenly feeling embarrassed for what he was about to ask. She probably had a good reason, or even many good reasons why she kept her betrothal a secret. Then again, it could also be because he never asked. He glanced down at her hands then, lovely, slender fingers too often covered by gloves, and there it was. A wedding band, worn on the right hand. A ring worn by a mourning widow.

So she never kept it a secret. He was just too stupid to notice and never asked. Good to know.

"Uh, well, um..." as soon as he started he knew it was a mistake. It was too late to ask, and he knew this. He should have noticed the first time he gingerly removed her gloves, and held her when he saw the ring on her right hand instead of her left. She then would have poured out her heart to him, or so she would, in those idle fantasies in which she was the sort of woman who needed him. Now it would come out as empty, accusatory words from a jealous lover. "Oh, never mind."

Laina gave her ring a little turn. "His name was Nelaros. We were never really married. Vaughn Uriel crashed our wedding and kidnapped me along with most of the female guests."

"Oh," was all he managed. Her words were matter-of-fact; she did not flinch from the memory. Alistair can only assume that it was too far away to hurt her anymore. A jest, then. "I pity anyone who tries to kidnap you."

"He's dead. I drove a dagger through his heart myself." Laina replied. "That fool did not give me much of a choice - he was either going to let me go and keep all of the other girls, or have me fight him. It wasn't exactly vengeance. Killing him was a necessity. I removed a menace from the alienage, but nothing could bring Nelaros back. I saw him cut down in front of my eyes. It was all his idea - breaking into the estate, finding me a weapon - and he died in the attempt."

"I'm sorry." Sorry he brought it up, most definitely.

"No, I did not love him." Laina smiled at him wistfully. "It's hard to love someone when you've only spoken to them for all of five minutes."

"Stop that!" Alistair exclaimed, rather too loudly.

"Hmm?" She moved her hand over his, and squeezed it. "What did I do?"

"Stop reading my mind. It's … emasculating. Yeah, that's the word."

"I wear the ring because I owe it to him. I owe him the person I am." The sorrow he saw in her eyes too often surfaced for a split second, and was gone. "'I'll spend every waking moment learning to make you happy.' They sounded like such grand words at the time. But they held true. I can still smile because I escaped Vaughn Uriel. I was a maid. An encounter with Uriel and his guards would have left me broken."

There was nothing he could say then but to fold her in his arms. He had seen her smile often in his company, but now he knew that she saw what happiness she allowed herself bought with the blood of a man she barely knew. A man she was promised to. A man who died for her. Alistair knew that he too would die for her, if that was what was needed of him.

Alistair would rather be given the chance to spend his life loving her. But that, he knew, would not be an option. If Arl Eamon gets his way at the Landsmeet, Alistair will be the King of Ferelden. The King of Ferelden cannot take an Elf to wife. Alistair, personally, will never be an indiscreet man like his father. He will not father bastards.

It was hard to think of the future with the blight at your heels, so they had thrown caution to the wind and fell in love. Opening your eyes in the morning and seeing your love was simple, unadorned happiness.

She raised her head in his embrace and kissed him, twining her fingers into his hair. Each of their kisses since the first had always the passion of a last kiss, and this was no different. There was a sense of desperation behind it all now, an urgency to be closer, to make every second count. The touch of her fingertips spoke as words cannot: this will be their last night together. Her caresses, bittersweet.

Later he would recall feeling the emptiness in his bed, opening his eyes to see the silhouette of Laina leaning on the door frame giving him one last glance, the moisture on her pillow when he leaned in to take in her scent. Half in a dream, he had wondered why she did not stay.

When he awoke he knew. It would have been too hard to leave if she had woken up beside him.

3

Alistair stayed in Redcliffe while the rest of them marched on to Denerim. Arl Eamon had urged him to stay; there was no point risking the life of the last Calenhad now that the throne was secure. It was fine by him. As much as he craved being a part of the battle, he did not want to be anywhere near her. Her and Loghain.

Anora came to talk to him before she left with Laina. 'Come to talk some sense into my future husband' as she called it. He had refused to speak with any of his past comrades. With one backroom deal with the queen, Laina sealed his fate. Anora would give her the support she needed in the landsmeet, Loghain will live, and somehow, between all the shouting and finger pointing, Alistair had asked for the throne. Revenge. It blinded him then. Vengeance. It was all he wanted. He wanted it more than anything. More than freedom. More than love. Loghain was on his knees, the traitorous wretch. It would have been so easy to swing his sword and take this life.

Revenge for Cailan, his half-brother. Revenge for Duncan and the rest that Loghain abandoned in Ostagar that fateful day.

With one gesture, Laina took it all away. She secured the future of Ferelden and sacrificed them. She bought political stability with their love. To a woman whose happiness was bought with blood, paying for the future of countless innocents with their love was easy. His asking for the throne and his outward hatred of her only made it easier still.

He did not expect her to die. Loghain, maybe. The new warden who could not even sense darkspawn as yet. He might have died in battle and Alistair's revenge will be half fulfilled. He would die a war hero instead of the traitor that he was, but at least he will be dead and gone.

Loghain was marching with the rest of them into Redcliffe today. For Laina's funeral. The viewing has begun, and he had sent a messenger with the castle staff that wanted to pay their respects to Laina. Despite his previous request, Wynne was not brought to him.

"Your majesty?" the Elven boy practically panted. The village wasn't far, but it was still a bit of a walk. Or a run, by the looks of him.

"So? How did she look?" Alistair had sent the boy for Wynne, but most of all he wanted to know how Laina died.

"Well, it's hard to say, your majesty."

"Come out and say it then," on the day of Laina's funeral, he found his patience wearing thin. Figure that.

"She...doesn't look as though she was injured at all. Not a cut or a bruise on her, or burns of any sort. I really don't know, your majesty."

Alistair knew that magic can do wonderful things, but healing all the wounds of a dead woman wasn't one of them. Despite popular belief, he was not stupid. Something unnatural happened here. "Did you find Wynne?"

"Yes, your majesty. She will be here shortly."

"Well, thank you. You're dismissed."

While the boy made a hasty exit, Alistair strode to the window and waited. From there, he could see the village of Redcliffe. A crowd was gathering - nobles and commoners both. A part of him knew that he should be there, beside Anora, going through the motions. But King Alistair falling to pieces and crying in a heap wasn't exactly what the crowd had come to see - scratch that, they'd love to see and gossip about it - or what he wished them to see.

"You called for me, your majesty?" Wynne's eyes were red. She watched him from the door with an icy glare.

"Please don't call me that. Not you." Wynne had, at one point, been a bit of a surrogate mother to him. She had words of wisdom for everyone. She had told him once that he was like the son she was not allowed to know. Her opinion of him appeared to have changed since.

"Oh? What should I call you then, King Alistair?"

"Oh, forget it. Just...come in. And close the door. Please." It feels as though he lost all his friends when he became more than just Alistair. Maybe they were all Laina's friends in the first place, and he just happened to be her chosen one. None of them will speak to him now and all regarded him without any warmth at all. When he turned his back on her he had turned on all of them, or so they seemed to think. "Were you there with her...in the end?"

"Yes. I was." Wynne closed the door, but stood not very far from it. "Sten, Leliana, and I was with her." She paused then, weariness creeped into her voice unhindered. "None of us could have saved her."

"What do you mean? How did she die? You know as well as I do that nothing takes her down. And you could've brought her back, couldn't you?"

"No. I couldn't have. I tried, but there was nothing to bring back. A spirit healer raises the dead by calling the spirit back into a body. She was not there when I called. She was gone." Tears came then, unbidden. "She hugged me before going for that final strike on the dragon. She knew. I healed her wounds with my touch before she ran off. There was a blinding flash of light...we all dived for cover. When I was able to see again, she was lying there, and all my magic could not bring her back."

"She...knew." Alistair repeated her words as realization struck him. She knew she was marching to her death. She knew one of them had to die.

When did she find out? When she spent the night here in Redcliffe? No. It had to have been earlier than that. The image of her crying in front of the fireplace flashed into his mind then. Before the landsmeet. Earlier that day he saw her pass a sheaf of papers to Riodan, and heard him say that the text is encrypted. Such things would not pose a challenge to Laina. Leliana and Laina together could crack any encryption before an hour is done.

She came to him and loved him that night, knowing that one of them had to die.

She had decided that it would be her.

His knees gave up on him then, and he found himself reaching out to a chair for strength. Alistair sat down heavily and buried his face in his hands. "You selfish brat!" He sobbed. "Selfish...useless...stupid..."

Wynne pulled up a chair. She came today to punish him, partly, but she hadn't the heart. He was punishment enough for himself. She waited for his sobbing to subside. "Alistair."

"What?" He raised his head to see Wynne's face, less accusing now, and not without a little warmth.

"I see that you still love her. Very much."

"Of course I do! People don't just stop loving each other the moment they end things. It was only … less than two weeks ago that she chose Loghain over me." Alistair wiped at his face with a sleeve. "Alright. I guess she didn't exactly do that but you saw what happened. You didn't agree with it either. I saw it on your face."

"No. Of course not. I was in Ostagar with Cailan. I wanted Loghain to die as much as you did." Wynne pulled a handkerchief out of her pack and stuffed it in Alistair's hands. "Laina wanted more than that. Death would have been an easy sentence for that man."

"What did she have in mind?" He really wanted to say 'why didn't she tell me?' but that would have sounded so immature, and he had shown enough immaturity for one day. "And if a Grey Warden had to die, why not just let Loghain die?"

"What, let him die a hero so soon after his disgrace? No. Loghain was already a hero. If he died ending a blight, his name would be immortalized in song. She knew you wouldn't have wanted that." Wynne paused, letting her words sink in. "She always gave you what you wanted. Do you remember that night you confronted her in camp over Connor's death?"

"How could I forget?" Connor was Arl Eamon's son. Which would make him Alistair's cousin. Laina had pushed Connor's mother aside and slit his throat. The boy was possessed by a demon and was, by the laws of the Chantry, an abomination that had to be slain. Alistair cornered her in front of their campfire and called her every kind of name possible to call an Elf, which were many. She looked him in the eyes and asked what he would have done different, and he had no answer for her.

"Do you remember what she said to you?" Wynne prompted.

"'I have killed a child with my blade, and I alone have to live with it.'" Laina made it easy for everyone else by shouldering all the guilt herself. She did not allow the Arlessa to kill her own child, she did not kill him in a battle where any of them can take part. She chose to walk in there alone.

"Laina had a way with people. You should see Loghain now - all that pride, the arrogance all melted away - it's like he's a different person. She turned all those deaths he caused into personal tragedies he can see, and feel. He has to live with his crimes, and she has opened his eyes to them. He's almost … humble."

"I would have died for her." Alistair blurted out. "I would have done anything for her."

"And what good will that do? In her eyes, you are more important than she was. You're royalty. She had a duty to die for you. She loved you."

"She expected me to be happy that she died for me?"

"She expected you to hate her. She expected you to be indifferent about her death at best." Wynne patted his hand. "I guess she was hoping you would be dumb enough to not figure things out. But most of all, I believe she wanted to be an Elven martyr. It would mean a lot to her people if an Elf died for the good of Ferelden."

Stability. A world where Elves can live in some semblance of peace. That was what Laina wanted. Alistair saw it now, and wished that he saw it sooner. No matter where she was, Laina brought the alienage with her. If Alistair had died protecting her, nothing would have changed. If Loghain died slaying the archdemon, the hero of River Dane would have saved the day. Laina had paired Alistair with Anora to temper her rule. An Elven hero for the Dragon Age would bring stability to alienage Elves everywhere.

The best ending for everyone but herself. Alistair had once lectured her on honor and duty when the subject of their future came up. He had told her that honor and duty was more important than the two of them being together. Little did he know that she understood this more than he ever could.

Alistair pushed down on the sides of his chair and stood up. He finally saw the handkerchief, though he no longer needed it. "Wynne?"

"Yes, Alistair?" No honorifics. Just the way he wanted it. He had one friend then, at least. The Marbari might have forgiven him by now, as well.

"Thank you. For everything."

"You'll be alright?"

"I'll live. It's what she wanted." Alistair chuckled, his mischievous self making a little comeback. "She did not give up her life for me to spend mine grieving. She is right, of course. She is...always right."

"I'm sorry?" Wynne was momentarily confused.

"I must live with what I have done." He turned to the window then, to the direction of the crowd, the funeral. "She went off to battle without knowing that I love her more than life itself. I never said goodbye. I will think about her everyday. I will live with the knowledge that she died believing that I hated her. It will be," he met her eyes, "my one regret."

King Alistair walked towards the door and pushed it open. He needed to talk to Anora about the speech she was to give at the funeral. He could not face Laina himself, but he will do his duty by her and saw her sacrifice remembered.

It was the ending she wanted.


End file.
